The Art of Tomorrow and Things We'll Never Learn
by commander in blue
Summary: Redux: The next generation of Gallagher girls and Blackthorne boys are brought together through a letter exchange. Rebels, socialites, geniuses, legends, good guys, and enigmas— what could possibly go wrong? Inspired by "Year of Secret Assignments"
1. the prologue

**oh, what a tangled web we weave...**

A simple letter exchange as a Cultures & Assimilation project.

_Gallagher Academy_. Blackthorne Institute.

That's it.

That's all it takes for things to go from _normal_ to chaotic very, very fast.

As Shakespeare says, "_All the world's a stage_."

So let's have a look at the players, shall we?

* * *

**[the girls]**

**jules maris.**

It's _Julianne_ to her grandparents, _Miss Maris_ to the authorities, and **Jules** to anyone wants to keep their kidneys. The offspring of British bombshell Bex Baxter and Greek god Grant Maris inherited her mother's good sense, her father's good charm, and both parents' disdain for the law. As the Gallagher Academy's most prominent adventurer, Jules is the first person to step up and the last person to back down from anything. At seventeen, she's much too hotheaded, far too stubborn, and just too reckless for her own good. Letter exchange? Waste of time. Or so she thinks. Watch out, Jules, you're not the only one who can break the rules...

**ivy mchenry-winters.**

What happens when you mix an heiress spy for a mother, a politician's son for a father, and enough upper-class angst to last a lifetime? That's** Ivy** for you. Having grown up in both the spy and political world, she's seen enough intrigue and lies to last a lifetime. In trying to forget the complete mess she called her home life, Ivy quickly became Jules' partner in crime as soon as she stepped foot at the Gallagher Academy. Clever, crafty, and candid—she doesn't think too much of this letter nonsense, until she finds out just who she's writing to.

**sophie williams.**

When you hear the phrase "_calm, cool, and collected_", you wouldn't think of the only child of proud geniuses Liz Sutton and Jonas Williams? Meet **Sophie**, ice queen personified. She lives behind a tough exterior of disinterest, nonchalance, and sarcasm that only Ivy and Jules have gotten past. While she's usually the one to talk her friends into not going overboard, she's been known to go along with many of their schemes out of curiosity. Tired of living to her parents' great expectations of her at school, she's beginning to feel the pressure to succeed now that she's a senior. That means no distractions, but not even a genius like her can promise that. Maybe her friends are rubbing off on her after all?

* * *

**[the boys]**

**adrian goode.**

When your parents are two of the most celebrated spies in the CIA and you've spent much of your life traveling around the world with them, your name tends to become synonymous with '_legend_'. At least in the case of **Adrian**. Arrogant doesn't even begin to cut it. Due to his family's heavy involvement in the spy life, he's easily one of the brightest Blackthorne students to walk those hallowed halls. And trust us, he knows. So when the letter exchange to Gallagher is announced, he figures he'll have some fun before he graduates. Wrong move, Goode.

**noel abrams.**

The all-American, the good guy, the golden boy—**Noel** fits each of those descriptions to a T. Unlike his peers at Blackthorne, Noel was never even aware of the spy life until he got that fateful letter, notifying him of his genius IQ and a mysterious school in New York that desperately wanted him to attend. Maybe it's his lack of prior knowledge that makes Noel one of the most genuine people at his school, maybe it's in his genes. After all, Josh and DeeDee Abrams are some of the most charitable families in Roseville. Regardless, Noel welcomes the letter exchange to the Gallagher Academy with his signature optimism. Perhaps nice guys don't finish last after all...

**leo alvarez-delgado**

Well, well, well, how could one describe **Leo**? You could start with the fact that he was the result of the famed CIA operative Eva Alvarez and the even more noteworthy CNI agent Andres Delgado. Or maybe the fact that he's as enigmatic as they come, even in a spy school? Or maybe it's the fact that he's got just enough charm to make you forget what you were questioning him about in the first place? Whatever it is, Leo doesn't plan to take the letter business seriously. But hey, he's always been a great liar.

_the kids are all right,_

_or are they?_

_

* * *

_

**AN: so yeah, em and i decided to go the letter route. seeing as i'll be moving quite far away from her soon (sob, sob), it works out better for us. no worries, though, we hope to make it as awesome as a normal narrative story. sorry for those who think otherwise. but we really did take the time out to think about it and we hope that this story might be a nice change of pace in the GG archives.**

**so we're starting fresh and clean with this story again.  
**

**feedback is always appreciated :)  
**

**-asha**


	2. sophie's journal and criminal actions

**[Sophie's Journal]**

_Helpful Thought Prompt: What is going on around you? How does that make you feel?_

What the hell is a Helpful Thought Prompt? If you need help or a prompt to think, then I seriously doubt that you should be writing in a journal. Especially one that is covered in hideous purple velvet and has "S.P. Williams" in fancy script. My old clarinet teacher Mrs. Terich used to wear purple velour tracksuits and gaudy gold jewelry, I didn't take that combination of colors and materials seriously then and I don't intend to now.

But okay, I'll play along. There's nothing better to do, anyway. I arrived at the Gallagher Academy a few hours ago and settled into my dormitory. My best friends and the rest of the girls in our hall showed up shortly after, chattering aimlessly and loudly to make up for a summer's worth of lost time. Without even leaving my comfortable perch near the window in my room, I can hear bits and pieces of Rory Farber's adventures in China or Leana King's French escapades. Everyone's voices is familiar to me.

It's weird to think of how close the senior class is. Sometimes there's this lovely feeling where you feel like you have a wonderful group of sisters and you could sit in a circle and paint your nails and braid hair without feeling like a total cliche. Or how we can borrow each others clothes without asking or all get together to go into town on days off. It does, as much as I hate to say it, give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

And then sometimes, I actually want to stab every single one of them and maybe undergo a sex change. Is that strange? This is the kind of shit you'll have to put up with, Journal. Are you sure you're up for the job?

Our room is just the way we left it when we departed for the summer. Thank goodness, the thought of anyone else occupying Room 108 makes me seriously ill. The bright green walls, the tattered posters, and various photos marked it as our territory. Everyone knows it as Ivy, Jules, and Sophie's room, our Bat Cave, our not-so-secret headquarters. Except by now, our names blend together into one word,_ IvyJulesandSophie_. Maybe to someone else, it'd be offensive to be referred to as a single moniker, but not to us. We're always the exception.

Ivy is furiously unpacking her multiple suitcases into the largest closet. Ever since freshmen year, it's been decided that she gets the privilege of using that closet. It's only fair, after all, she's got more clothes than probably all of us put together.

On the more relaxed side, Jules is lying on her bed, absentmindedly reading a book in Sanskrit—hold on a moment, this is getting boring.

Ivy suddenly turned into a hideous toad, and she's growing a mustache as I write this. And a soul patch, because she wants other toads to think she's a deeply tortured artist. Jules, on the other hand, magically grew a third leg and is already plotting a way to start a three-legged race gambling ring and reap the profits. Once the Gallagher Academy's very own James Potter and Sirius Black, the two—

"Hey!" A foam soccer ball just hit me in the face. Jules. Her aim isn't the only thing that's deadly, as she's reading over my shoulder with a grim facial expression.

"A three-legged race gambling ring?" she reads with a snort, "Are you serious? There are so many other things I'd do with a third leg."

Ivy snorts, "That didn't sound sexual at all." She puts down the shirts she was precariously folding and bounds over to us. "A soul patch?" she says with disgust, "have I taught you nothing about proper facial hair rules?"

"Gross. Ives, do you remember Mark? From last summer?"

"Mustache Mark? Ugh, please don't remind me. It was a lapse in judgment."

"Won't stop me from judging you."

Yes, Journal. These are my friends. Remember when I said I occasionally wanted to stab my classmates? Jules and Ivy would be the first, no question.

And you know what? They're also the reason I'm stuck with this piece of crap journal in the first place.

When you put together Ivy and Jules, a boring summer night in Roseville, a few crates of illegal fireworks, and a three story high building with terrible security—you're in for trouble. But when you add the local police, Elizabeth and Jonas Williams and a few psychology books on parenting to the mix—you're told you need to "_creatively and personally take a perceptive glance at my problems and organize them without using crime as a cry for attention_" and consequently get stuck with a stupid journal.

Feel free to take offense.

_-Sophie_

_

* * *

_

**ROSEVILLE POLICE DEPARTMENT- OFFICIAL REPORT**

**REPORTED BY DEP. FRED SANTIAGO ON JULY 18TH AT 2:24 A.M.**

**RECORDED BY JR. DEP. JAMES PETERSON**

**OFFENDERS: JULIANNE MARIS (17), IVY MCHENRY-WINTERS (17), SOPHIA WILLIAMS (17)**

**OFFENSES: BREAKING AND ENTERING, ILLEGAL POSSESSION OF FIREWORKS/EXPLOSIVES**

—

_OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT:_

**Dep. Fred Santiago:** Can you ladies please tell me why you're here?

**Ivy McHenry-Winters:** ...You brought us here. In a cop car. About twenty minutes ago.

**Santiago (sighing):** I'm aware of that fact, Miss McHenry-Winters—

**Julianne Maris:** Call her Ivy. Her last name sounds pretentious as hell.

**Santiago (sighing again):** Thank you, Miss Maris. Now, er, can somebody please tell me why you were on the roof of the Lowell building on 13th and Simms, lighting _(pauses to look at notes) _crates of fireworks?

**Maris:** Technically, they were just firecrackers and bottle rockets. Lighting an firework without proper precautions would just be careless.

**McHenry-Winters:** I agree, they are significantly less harmful. We're not stupid. Bottle rockets and firecrackers wouldn't hurt anyone but us. And they didn't.

**Santiago:** Noted, but it's still illegal to be in possession of them as minors. Where did you get the fireworks?

**Maris:** We actually found the crate abandoned on the side of the street next to a homeless man.

**McHenry-Winters:** Crazy luck, right?

**Santiago (scribbling furiously):** But why on the rooftop?

**McHenry-Winters (smiling):** We thought this town needed a little dazzle. You know, just some fun and spark.

**Maris: **Dazzling, having fun, or giving this town a well-deserved spark isn't illegal.

**McHenry-Winters**: I'd say it's pretty noble, actually. Our only crime is bringing joy to others.

**Maris:** Yeah, I mean, how messed up is that you can in trouble for that nowadays? _(to Dep. Santiago)_ D'you know what you can do for fun in Roseville?

**Santiago (frowning)**: No, what?

**Maris:** I don't know either. I was asking you, man. _(McHenry-Williams snickers in the background)_

**Santiago (exhaling deeply)**: You ladies need to be taking this matter seriously. Do you know what could've happened to you? Say the firecrackers went off in the wrong direction and hit one of you and fell off the roof?

**McHenry-Winters (pauses):** That actually couldn't happen. We always ran behind this huge generator after lighting it.

**Maris: **Yeah, and the force of the firecracker versus our mass wouldn't—

**Santiago (frustrated):** Look, I'm not here to argue with you about the physics of the matter. We're here to talk about the severity of your actions. Beginning with how did you break into the Lowell building?

**Maris (with a grave expression):** Picked the locks to the front door, disabled the alarm system, blocked all footage of us breaking into the building with a looped reel of footage from the night before, re-routed the elevator to take us up to the top floor, and then dusted for fingerprints on the door keypad for the security code to allow access on the roof.

**Santiago (dumbstruck):** ...Are you serious?

_(McHenry-Winters and Maris burst into laughter.)_

**McHenry-Winters (catching her breath):** Oh, God, Jules, you really had him!_ (to Dep. Santiago)_ You should've seen your face! _(breaks into hysterics once more)_

**Maris (wiping a tear of laughter from her eye):** Priceless, just priceless. "Are you serious?"_ (said in deeper tone, possibly mocking Dep. Santiago)_

**Santiago (takes off glasses and sighs, massaging temples):** Miss Maris, Miss McHenry-Winters. My shift ends in five minutes. Please do not make it hell for me with your silly nonsense. Now, how did you really get into the Lowell building?

**McHenry-Winters (calmly): **There was a ladder on the side of the building and we climbed it.

**Santiago:** A three story high building?

**Maris: **We're not really afraid of heights.

**Santiago:** So...the lock picking and alarm system disabling and dusting for finger prints...all false?

**McHenry-Winters:** Yup. I mean, who could actually do something like that? You'd have to be some kind of locksmith or criminal genius—

**Maris:** Or, you know, a spy.

**McHenry-Winters:** You have a better chance of becoming a wizard, Julesy-kins.

**Santiago (taking an aspirin):** You know what? We're getting absolutely nowhere. It's two in the morning and you're just a group of silly high school girls. I'm going to let you off with a warning, okay? Just don't let me catch you on any more rooftops trying to dazzle Roseville with fireworks. _(turns to Sophia Williams, who has been silent) _Do you have anything to add to this or can I just write this off as a case of teenage summer hi-jinks?

**Sophia Williams (shakes head):** If I were to assault Ivy and Jules right now, how long would I be in jail for?

**Santiago (taking another aspirin):** Six months. A year at worst.

**Williams (hesitates):** Not worth it.

**McHenry-Winters:** Can we leave now?

**Santiago:** Please leave now.

**Maris (leaps out of chair)**: Excellent, the night is still young._ (gestures to friends)_ Shall we, ladies?

**McHenry-Winters:** We shall. Au revoir, Fred!

**Maris:** We'll have to do this again sometime!

_(Maris, McHenry-Winters, and Williams exit office.)_

**Santiago (gathering belongings):** Hey, Peterson?

**Jr. Dep. James Peterson (still recording)**: Yes?

**Santiago:** If you see those three committing another crime, even bloody murder, do me a favor and don't say anything.

**Peterson:** Will do, sir.

_(transcript ends)_

_

* * *

_

**AN: well, yeah. this is the ridiculousness that is ivy, jules, and sometimes sophie.**

**em wrote sophie's part, i did the police report while doped up on tylenol.  
**

**letters start next chapter with the girls and is already written, so it's probably gonna be updated tomorrow. yay!**

**thanks for sticking with our nonsense, tell us what you think so far!**

**-asha (:  
**


	3. first letters: the girls

**[a notice]**

**ATTENTION GALLAGHER ACADEMY SENIORS:**

_This year as your ongoing Cultures and Assimilation project, you will be writing letters to your fellow peers at the Blackthorne Institute. By doing so, you will work on your writing skills, manners, and forge great friendships with our brother school! Rest assured, ladies, your grade for this project will be based on completion only. These letters will not be read by anyone but you, your pen pal, and whomever you choose to share said letter with. Letters will be sent once a week, so please have your envelopes signed, sealed, and ready for the post. _

_For your first letter, I recommend you talk about yourself, your interests (likes and dislikes), most important people in your life (pick 3), your own accomplishments, and what you hope to gain from this valuable experience._

_And remember, ladies, enjoy this! I promise it will be the highlight of your year._

_With affection,_

Mme. Dabney

* * *

**Hey Blackthorne Boy**,

Hello there! I'm Ivy, so nice to meet you! Hope life's treating you amazingly, especially with all the amazing weather we've been getting. I'm so happy to be writing a letter to our Blackthorne spy brethren-

Shit, doesn't that make you nauseous?

Relax. I'm only taking you for a ride, my teacher- good ol Madame Dabney- was watching over my shoulder like a hawk to make sure I'm not harassing the poor Backthorne boy who got partnered with me. Apparently I have a habit with rude and inappropriate language, for shame. I mean, fuck that shit. Gotta keep up with appearances, right?

In case you're wondering, life's treating me like it caught me in bed with it's wife. Though I really doubt you're wondering.

They've got us locked up in the Cultures and Assimilation classroom, making us sit isolated from one another so we can write our letters in peace (read: utter boredom). In fact, Madame Dabney even separated me from my friends to make me sit in the very front row. I can just smell the future lawsuit in the air. It wasn't even my fault. Jules asked me to borrow a pencil and we ended up a tiny, minor fist fight. No big deal.

My hand's starting cramp up since I spent the better part of last night writing a Covert Operations essay I should've done over the summer, so I'll make this easier on myself and go through Dabney's mandatory first letter points in bullet form:

-**Name:** Ivy, I kinda said that before. Hope you're paying attention. I occasionally go by Gustavo St. Ames, but that's only when I'm feeling frisky.

-**Age:** 89, but I don't look a day over fifty.

-**Three Most Important Things in My Life:** Julianne Baxter Maris, Sophia Penelope Williams, and my good buddy Jack Daniels.

-**Likes:** Anything I want. Who are you, my mother?

-**Dislikes:** People who list what they dislike, when that list of dislikes consists of things that any sane person would dislike.

-**Something I'm Proud Of:** Well, I've managed to keep up the facade that I'm actually writing a meaningful, serious letter to my pen pal for the past forty minutes. Jules quit after three and Sophie looks like she's gonna fall asleep. I win.

-**Something I Hope the Blackthorne/Gallagher Letter Exchange Will Accomplish:** I sincerely hope that this exchanging of the letters will result in strengthening our schools' ties and create alliances and friendships that will last a lifetime.

Or, you know, you can just go ahead and shove this letter up your ass.

In case I haven't been totally obvious, spy boys suck. Blackthorne ones? Not even worth it.

**Look alive,**  
_Ivy_

* * *

**Dear Blackthorne Boy,**

Wanna know something funny? I can predict the kinds of letters you and your fellow Blackthorne Boys will receive through this letter exchange.

1.) _The Repressed, I've-Just-Realized-I-Go-To-An-All-Girl's-School-And-I-Want-BOYS_ letter: This can be identified by overly girly, loopy handwriting on fancy stationary paper, with perhaps a spritz of perfume added in for good measure. Key elements of this letter are mentions of their current relationship status (single, no doubt), hobbies, and other inane facts about themselves to make it painfully obvious that they haven't socialized with a male their age in a while.

2.) _The Cool, I-Realize-That-Males-Are-Basically-The-Same-As-Females-But-A-Little-Differen_t: You'll know it's these kind of letters from the try hard use of slang and curse words, but still. They are totally aware of your boyness (manhood? Sounds dirty.) They want to impress you. They want you to think you're one of them. And just when you let your guard down, they'll ensnare you like a hungry alligator would a gazelle.

So, don't be fooled, Blackthorne Boy.

3.) _The I-Could-Not-Give-A-Flying-Flip-About-This_ letter: As I look around the room to my classmates and their writing, I can guarantee you at least one Blackthorne boy will get this type.

Tell me how that goes. Tell me if I'm right, I usually am.

Madame Dabney wants us to write about ourselves. I've been alive for seventeen years and I've only got one piece of paper. I'm going to have to summarize.

I'm Sophie. My parents thought it'd be clever to name me after the Greek word for wisdom. It's sort of redundant to call myself smart, because aren't we all in some way? IQ numbers don't mean anything. I'm MENSA certified, but ask me to bake a cake and I'm screwed.

My best friends in the world are Jules and Ivy. We were destined to become best friends. Our mothers were, after all. But that's not the only reason why. If people were seasons, Jules would be summer (_hotheaded_), Ivy would be spring (_unexpected_), and me? I would be that weird time of the year where it's not quite spring, but winter is over. Or when summer is cooling down and autumn is just beginning. Either way, it's undefined. Don't think too much about that, I like it that way. You need those undefined changes in weather to make a full year.

What season are you?

**Peace,**

_Sophie_

* * *

**Blackthorne Boy,**

If I wanted to waste my time, I'd go to a normal school.

**Cheers,**

_Jules_

_

* * *

_

**an: see, i told you we'd update soon! and with letters! the crowd goes wild! short chapter, but i promise they'll lengthen in time. this is just a taste of their personalities. ****the boys are up next.**

**thanks to everyone who reviewed our last version of this story and this new one. we got a lot of hits, but not a lot of feedback. let's change that, yeah? tell us what you thought! :)**

**with affection (:p)**

**asha! and em on the side.  
**


	4. first letters: the boys

**Dear Jules**,

Hey, how's it going? I'm Noel. Noel Abrams, if you want to get exact. Jules is a kickass name, it's a shame your letter was so short. I think it's kind of awesome that our schools are doing this whole letter thing. None of us know too much about the Gallagher Academy, except that it's, well, the female version of Blackthorne. Or so I've heard. Never been there. Could you tell me what it's like?

So wow, what can I write about myself? I'm seventeen and my birthday is on June 29th. I was born in Roseville, the same place as your school, and I lived there until I was accepted into Blackthorne. Even though Blackthorne is just a half hour away, I miss Roseville. It had the whole small town charm that you don't really get as a spy. Nice houses and gardens, lots of locally owned stores, and everyone knows your name. What's to hate about that?

My dad works there in a pharmacy, it's been in our family since the beginning of time. Or at least the founding of Roseville. See, I was supposed to work there, but something about being sent to a school for future government agents changes that. I still love my dad, though, and I work there in the summers.

My mom, on the other hand, owns a clothing store in town. Maybe you've been there? It's called DeeDee's. If you haven't, don't stress about it; I only go when absolutely necessary. It's extremely pink and almost always filled with obnoxious teenage girls (no offense), but my mom loves it. Oh well. If you ever want a discount there, I'm the guy to ask.

I've got a younger sister too, her name is Anabel. She's only thirteen and in the seventh grade, but she acts like she knows everything about the world. I don't blame her, though, she's pretty smart and mature for her age. Even I take her advice sometimes. Despite it all, I'm still her big brother, and what can I say, I miss the kid. We were always really close, you know?

When I'm not studying, I play a lot of sports. Good thing about Blackthorne is that they train you like crazy in gym, so I always show up the guys back home when I'm in Roseville. I like almost every sport, but soccer and swimming are my favorites. It's the feeling of scoring a game winning goal or diving in the water at five AM that gets me. Like for one second, you're the best. Only for a moment. When I'm alone, I go running, it's how I clear out my mind. What do you do for fun?

School wise, my workload this year is ridiculous, as I've got to do field agent courses along with a few research and development classes. Nothing says "typical high school experience" like tracking your classmates in a Covert Operations assignment and then having to perfect a pocket laser in the chemistry lab. Only joking, though. I wouldn't trade this for all the cheerleaders and pep rallies in the world.

Oh, and Jules? I don't think this letter thing is a waste of time.

**See ya**,

_Noel_

* * *

**Sophie,**

Seasons?

I think I would be paprika. It has depth and richness, and instantly adds a lot of soul to any cooking. Plus, it's spicy, and a lot of people can't handle it.

There's also saffron, which is extremely valuable and expensive depending on where you live. Have you ever seen pure saffron? It's pretty trippy to know that shade of yellow exists in nature. Trippy, but nice.

But I'll tell you what season I wouldn't be. Salt. It's so plain and constantly used. It can actually cause a lot of health problems if eaten in excess. You could die from it.

I'm sure you just read that and said, "_The fuck? What is he on_?" Nothing, at the moment. All the resources in the world and not one of my brilliant peers has thought to develop the greatest drug on the planet? The other spy schools must be laughing at Blackthorne.

You sounded a bit high when you started talking about the seasons you and your friends were, no offense. Has the Gallagher Academy made this super drug? Is it a pill or something you smoke? If you could send me some, that would be great, thanks.

I liked your letter a lot, by the way. Thanks for the heads-up about the different types of letters. I definitely didn't want to be an ensnared gazelle, those are the worst. You were right, too. There were more try-hard letters than the clingy girl ones, but the classroom smelled nauseatingly like strong perfume after a few minutes of opening the envelopes. Not too much mail of the "_do-not-give-a-damn_" variety, though. Except I heard this one guy got a letter with only one sentence in it and very cutting. That's ballsy, even for a spy girl.

Not one letter mentioned boyness or manhood. I'm sorely disappointed.

Since you so graciously summarized your life for me, I'll return the favor. I'm Leo, even though I believe I'm a Capricorn. I don't actually give a shit about horoscopes, so it works out. I'm a few months off being able to be tried as an adult in a court of law and I could not be more thrilled. I think reality TV is disgustingly interesting and drinks should always be cold.

Summarizing has never been my forte. If you can sum up your life in a few sentences, you've got a lot of living to do.

**Take it easy,**

_Leo_

* * *

**Ivy baby,**

You'll have to try harder than that.

**- Adrian**

_

* * *

_

**an: em wrote this chapter, so major props to her! quite a fast update and kind of short, but the letters will go longer once the partnership correspondence commences. like my word choice? **

**thanks for all the fabulous reviews! let's keep that train going. liked it? hated it? tell us about it! :)**

**-asha (: and the ever lovely em.  
**


	5. a journal, list, and detention slip

**Ways To Kill "Adrian" (also known as "Asshole") and Get Away With It**  
_by Ivy McHenry-Winters_

1.) Make friends with the chef at Blackthorne and get him to poison Asshole's food.

2.) Call in one my mother's mafia connections and place a hit on him.

3.) Somehow introduce a disgusting disease to Blackthorne and give the vaccine to everyone but Asshole.

4.) Frame him for a federal crime in some country where torture is not only legal, but encouraged.

5.) Place poison in my next letter to him. Look into acquiring anthrax.

6.) Three words: execution by elephant. Must call in favors from the zoo.

7.) Find out what his hopes and dreams are...and then crush them. Violently. And then him.

8.) Have somebody (Sophie) run him over with a car. Tell Sophie to drive normally and let whatever happens, happen.

* * *

**[Sophie's Journal]**

_Helpful Thought Prompt: What's the most interesting thing that happened to you today?_

What the hell, Journal? I thought we had come to the mutual consensus that these helpful thought prompts are neither helpful nor prompt me to think. In fact, they make me want to chuck this journal at the window, which would send a hurricane of glass flying my way and send you flying outside of the third story window. There'll be blood, That doesn't bode well for our health, does it?

You've got to start paying attention, Journal.

The most interesting that happened today was that we all got responses from our Blackthorne pen pals. Madame Dabney was, as expected, ridiculously excited over the whole shabang. She was fluttering around the room and waving her arms as she gushed, "What gentlemen! Responding so quickly! The Blackthorne Institute has done a commendable job."

Yes, she really does speak like an actress from the 1940s who recently discovered a thesaurus.

Several of the girls matched Madame Dabney's exuberance, shoving their pen pals' replies in each other's faces, giggling and blushing. Some even analyzed the handwriting to try to gain an understanding of their Blackthorne boy's personality; some dusted for fingerprints to take to the lab and study their possible genetic makeup. Typical girl stuff.

Ivy didn't say anything about her letter, but from what I saw over her shoulder, it was very short. But, she did tuck it away in her bag before taking out a piece of paper and scribbling something down. She looked menacing, so I can only deduct that she wasn't drawing a lovely picture of cupcakes or something.

My pen pal is okay. Well, not okay, in terms of sanity. His name is Leo and he doesn't know the difference between "seasons" and "seasonings". I've got to say, though, his letter was pretty entertaining. Kind of a head trip, but entertaining nonetheless.

I let Ivy read the letter and she snorted. "Watch out for the witty ones, Sofa." I don't know exactly what she meant by that, but Ivy has the most experience with boys out of the three of us, so I'll take her word.

Jules ended up getting the longest letter, go figure. Bear in mind the girl literally wrote one sentence and then fell asleep. The look on her face was amazing when she ripped open her letter was simply priceless. See, Journal, it's very hard to phase someone like Jules. When we were younger, our favorite game to play was "Boo!" ( we weren't creative back then), in which Ivy, Jules, and I tried our hardest to scare the living daylights out of each other. Except if you're a spy in training, it's way more fun because you're taught from birth how to be sneaky and above all, don't ever get caught.

No matter how hard Ivy and I tried, we could never successfully scare Jules. I remember once, I actually bungee jumped off the roof of her house, planning perfectly so I would fly right in front of her as she tried to unlock the front door. Nothing. Just a little laugh and maybe a pat on the back, all while she'd say, "Bungee jumping? Come on Soph, I thought you were trying to scare me."

I don't think the letter scared her, but it definitely threw her off. Her eyes were as wide as a saucer and her mouth had dropped a bit. A moment before, she had this cocky grin from managing to flick her favorite lighter with her feet (she'll take any dare, really). And then all of a sudden, it was gone. Her eyes narrowed sharply, not unlike the way they get when she's practicing her kickboxing moves on the punching bag in P&E. Her lips curled up into a little smirk, her scheming one. I knew in that little action that she was going to do something so very Jules-ish.

And she did. She grabbed her lighter off the floor and in one swift motion, her letter started burn at the edges. In seconds, the flames had reached the other side of the paper and the letter began to disappear from sight. There was nothing but a little trail of ash sprinkling from her fingers like dust from some old possession she just couldn't be bothered to care for.

I don't know him at all, but I wouldn't burn Leo's letter. You shouldn't burn something that makes you laugh.

_-Sophie_

_

* * *

_

**[a detention slip]**

**NAME:** Jules Maris

**GRADE:** 12

**CAUSE OF DETENTION:** "Mild arson," as Madame Dabney said when she took my lighter. I hope she's filling one of these forms out for THEFT.

**DAMAGE:** One stupid piece of shit letter burned; my ego slightly wounded.

**TIME**: In Dabney's class, when I got my stupid piece of shit letter from my pen pal. My ego was wounded when she apprehended (read: snatched) my favorite lighter, the 1976 Zippo one. They're really hard to get.

**LESSON:** Don't burn anything in front of Madame Dabney, she's a buzzkill. Don't write any more letters. Don't have any more faith in humanity's ability to not steal.

_Miss Maris,_

_Perhaps if you had an additional two weeks of detention, you could work on your courtesy issues and learn how to solve your problems in a ladylike manner. Ladies do not burn a letter from a nice gentleman, use such foul language, or blatantly disrespect authority figures by accusing them of crimes. Do not make a mockery of this school, Miss Maris._

_Sincerely,_

_M. Dabney_

_

* * *

_

**an: wowza! you guys rock for the all the kickass feedback! we like what we're seeing, folks!**

**next chapter begins the letters between a gallagher girl and a blackthorne boy. expect that chapter to be...longer. as in it covers a period of time of the school year. get it? yeaaah.**

**tell us what you thought of this chapter, we always appreciate it :)  
**

**-asha and em. or ashem. ashem ketchum.  
**


	6. part one: jules & noel

**Noel,**

Listen up, kid, and listen well. I don't do this very often, so consider this a once in a lifetime oppurtunity I'm going to cut you an enormous amount of slack and outline each and every problem I have with your letter. Why, you may ask? It's not because my harpy teacher Madame Dabney keeps looking over at me here in the lovely detention room, just to make sure I'm writing an even lovelier response to my pen pal. No. It's because I'm in a pretty good mood, seeing as my best friend Ivy pulled a few strings to get my favorite lighter back from the clutches of evil.

And also, Noel, you're clearly in need of my help. Don't get upset, a lot of people are. But you especially. So let's get to it, okay?

1.) "_Jules is a kickass name_": See, to the untrained eye there is nothing wrong with this little piece. In fact, it can be interpreted as a compliment. Like, "hey, he thinks my name is cool! Yay!" and then I dance around the letter happily like a ballerina on acid. You get the image out of your head, Noel, because that is dead wrong. You wrote those five words, and I instantly knew that it was a gratuitous compliment. You were just saying that to be nice. Nobody compliments names and means it. You should always mean what you say.

2.) "_I miss Roseville. It had the whole small town charm that you don't really get as a spy_.": Stop right there. Holy shit. Did you really write that? Frack. You have more issues than I thought.

Okay. Let me calm down a moment.

You know in Harry Potter, when Harry or Hermione does something extremely Muggle-ish and then Ron or someone will say, "What the hell? You're a wizard. You're magical." And then Harry or Hermione will be all, "Oh, right. Shit. My life is awesome, I can do magic" and feel incredibly stupid for trying to ever question the wizarding world.

We're a lot like that. Spies are wizards. Muggles are the normal folks.

So how, in the name of all that is good, could you miss Roseville? Sure, your family's there. Family is nice. But other than that? It's dull. Nothing happens there. Hell, even a Roseville agreed with me on that point.

Do you know what this kind of life means for us? That means that we're going to have millions of more opportunities and billions of more problems than anyone in Roseville. We're going to go to places they'll never see and do things that they'd never dare to. Do I sound a little full of it? Fuck yes. Because I can.

You sound like you're not taking advantage of this. Don't disappoint yourself.

3.) "_If you ever want a discount there, I'm the guy to ask_.": No offense to your mum, but that store is not really my style. Shame on you for assuming it would be. Shame.

4.) "_What do you do for fun?_": You seem to be one of those sporty guys who only view their life in terms of athletics. I'm sure you were hoping that your pen pal would be an equal sports enthusiast, so we can discuss our loves of soccer (it's football, you know, according to the rest of the world) and perhaps realize we have more things in common, like saying "gosh golly gee whiz" and being the perfect rays of sunshine. But things (and people) are never perfect, are they?

5.) "_I wouldn't trade this for all the cheerleaders and pep rallies in the world._": Cheesy high school reference. Clever. I bet you'd be the quaterback, student body president, and homecoming king. What an overachiever.

6.) "_I don't think this letter thing is a waste of time._": Of course you don't. But I do. Maybe you completely missed the point?

I hope I was able to shed some light on the failings of your letter writing skills. Or at the very least, write a harsh enough letter to get you to switch pen pals. Might I recommend Lily Oliver or Rayanne Higgins? Both are nice girls, I'm sure they wouldn't mind having more than one pen pal, especially someone as nice as you.

**Don't reply,**

_Jules._

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

Okay, you've made your point. You think this letter exchange are stupid . You think that I'm stupid. You think Roseville is stupid. You probably think everybody and everything in the entire world besides you is stupid.

But you know what? I don't. I think the letter exchange is a great idea. I think Roseville is a nice place to live. I think the whole world is amazing. I think that being a spy doesn't mean I have to be a prick.

Most of all, I think that you're just the worst kind of spy girl—the kind who is too aware of their own intellect and has an ego of Jupiter. Just because your IQ is high doesn't mean you need a superiority complex to match it. Now, I don't ever talk to people like that, so I guess you could consider this "a once in a lifetime opportunity."

And unlike you, I care about how I do in school. That means, I'm not going to quit this letter thing just because you're too selfish to see how it would affect anyone else. I hope you'll do the same.

_-Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

Bravo! Wow. You really told me. Way to reprimand. See those little tear drops in the corner of this paper? I had a little mental breakdown from your extremely accurate analysis on my personality flaws. In fact, I'm so grateful that somebody finally told me what's wrong with me that I'm actually sobbing as I write—

What the hell? No, I'm not.

**Keep calm and fuck off,**

_Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

Look, I'm really sorry for what I said and if it hurt your feelings. Like I said, I don't usually talk to people like that. Sorry, again. Maybe we can just forget this and start over?

But hey, guess what happened today? My lab skills finally came in handy. This guy who is pretty well-known for messing around with lots of girls and usually upsetting them got a letter from his pen pal and he noticed something strange about it. He asked me to take it to the lab and run a few tests on it, and I agreed mostly because I was pretty curious myself as to what you Gallagher girls could have your sleeves.

It turns out his pen pal was trying to poison him. Guess we don't have the worst pen pal relationship after all. Sorry this letter is so short, I was kinda too angry to write before all of this, but not any more.

**Peace,**

_Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

I find it alarming that you measure a successful penpalship based on whether or not one pen pal is poisoning the other.

_-Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

Okay, you still seem mad. That's fine, my parents always say, "anger is an energy, so channel it!" and the TV says, "don't get mad, get glad!" Maybe you need to do the latter? Give me a head's up when we're cool, I hope you don't think I'm a jerk or anything. I really want to give this a chance.

**Best thoughts,**

_Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

I don't think you're a jerk. I think you're too nice. It's much worse.

_-Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

I'm glad you responded, even if it didn't make sense. Is it really worse to be too nice than a jerk? Jerks are rude, impolite, and offensive. Nice people are fun, happy, and caring. Who wouldn't want to be that?

**Confused,**

_Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

"_Nice people are fun, happy, and caring._"

You forgot boring.

_-Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

Boring? How are nice people boring? I don't know what kind of people you hang out with, but it's possible to be nice and interesting at the same time. I know, because I am. Or, at least I think I am.

Can you explain what you mean?

**Peace,**

_Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

Nice people are safe. They're reliable, yes, but there's also nothing particularly extraordinary about them. They're water. Vanilla ice cream. Basic television.

At least with jerks you might get the chance of a little spark, a little intrigue, a little interest.

Noel, I basically bitched you out for no discernible reason other than you were my pen pal. I ripped you to shreds.I ripped your shreds to shreds. And the second you started to call me out on it, you wussed out. A jerk would've stayed by his opinion of me, and I could respect that. Why? Because at least I'd know they meant it. Don't apologize for how you feel, it makes you look weak and, well, a bit boring.

You have to earn my respect; you had it for a millisecond.

_-Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

Strictly hypothetically speaking, how could one prove that they're not boring?

_-Noel_

_P.S._ Not that I agree with you or anything.

* * *

**Noel,**

Now you're speaking my language, Sunshine Boy.

The only antidote to boring is to do something so completely unexpected, so ridiculously ballsy, and so undeniably badass that everyone will have no choice but to revel in your insanity.

In layman's terms: one wild dare, courtesy of Jules B. Maris.

You interested?

_-Jules_

* * *

**Dear Jules,**

I'm interested, but only in the name of science, of course. That doesn't mean I'll do it, though. But I'd definitely consider it. I mean, how bad can a dare be?

What do you have in mind? Is it safe? Is it illegal? I'm usually game for anything, but I just wanna make sure.

_-Noel_

* * *

**Noel,**

In the name of science, my ass. More like in the name of "somebody doesn't like to be called boring", right? It's okay, you get points for being a good sport about it.

Let's just say, I have it on _very_ good authority that our Headmistress Fetterman and your school head Dr. Powell are planning a little field trip for the Gallagher and Blackthorne seniors. My source says it's going to be a mission simulation of sorts, and that it involves the following objects: a Blackthorne helicopter, skydiving equipment from Gallagher, various disguises, and a numerous amount of comms units. Now, I don't have psychic powers, so I'm not going to bother figuring out what we're actually gonna have to do. But, like most people, I do have kleptomaniac tendencies. Only I keep it under wraps.

Dare: Steal the helicopter and put it on the roof any building before the field trip. Bonus points if you put it on the roof of the Roseville police department, leaving some sort of message for a man named Fred. Take pictures of it for me.

Is it safe? Probably. Illegal? Probably not. Fun? Hell yes.

_-Jules_

_P.S _Consider this your one shot at redeeming yourself.

_P.P.S._ In case you need a little encouragement: _chicken_.

* * *

**Jules,**

Fun? I'll see about that.

**Until next time,**

_Noel._

_

* * *

_

**an: ah, jules, what a corrupter! and noel, so nice :) i know some letters were very short, but that was sort of the point. you can't write these amazing long letters when you hardly know a person.  
**

**em writes for noel, i write jules. i'm the nice one of the duo, i swear.**

**also em has far too much time on her hands and found pictures for the girls that can be found on my profile.  
**

**thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter! be sure to review this one and tell us what you thought!**

**next chapter: ivy & adrian :) that can't end well.**

**-asha (: and emememem.**

**p.s.: everyone should read "you, me, and the great inbetween" and "it takes a thief" by xfighterplane. even if you don't like clique stories. ****i would've posted this sooner if i wasn't so awestruck by her writing. ****seriously, ren is amazing and i don't plug people ever. I LOVE YOU RENNYFISH WAY MORE THAN EM DOES**

**p.p.s: drey write the best reviews. hands down. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN YOU LOVE JESSE EISENBERG. and thats a lot of love.  
**


	7. part one: ivy & adrian

**Dear Adrian,**

Kindly shove this letter down your throat and choke to death.

**Regards,**

_Ivy_

* * *

**Ivy,**

That's the spunk I was looking for. Short, sweet, and to the point. You sort of ruined your first letter by writing it in a way that could be interpreted that, yes, you do give a shit. But then you wrote this eleven word masterpiece. Signing it with "_regards_" just makes it classy. Color me surprised.

**-Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

If you were on fire and I had a cup of water, I would drink it. With gusto.

**Refreshingly,**

_Ivy_

* * *

**Ivy,**

I like this one too! Very biting and harsh. I really get the vibe that you're being completely honest. Remind me to stay away from you if I'm ever engulfed in flames, lest you decide to hydrate yourself in my time of need.

Wanna know something strange? There's a thirteenth century Shah who died of water intoxication (of course, can't be named for clandestine purposes), all because there was a drought in his country and, I don't know, he wanted to be a super prick and drink a shitload of the clean water supply to spite everyone. Don't you hate people like that? Always gotta ruin living for everyone. Don't be a super prick, Ivy.

Also, I notice that this letter is laced with some sort of purple substance with a strong lavender scent. At first, I thought it was your attempt to hit on me by spritzing perfume on the paper like a few of the other girls at your school have done (tell Leana King she's got a little fan club). But then I thought, "What the fuck? Ivy wouldn't do that. She'd use her creative writing techniques and compose a play in my honor." Even worse, I started to get a little dizzy from the smell.

Not taking any chances, I asked this one kid Noel (who is on the CoveOps and research track) to run a few tests on your letter in the lab. Within minutes, I found myself having this conversation:

"What's wrong with it?" I asked innocently, a little high off of the fumes.

Noel frowned in confusion and said, "I think she's trying to harm you. I found samples of arsenic-based poison."

Imagine my surprise, I thought you and me were getting along great. "Arsenic?"

"Only a little. Enough to mess with your health, but not enough to kill you." And that was the end of our conversation, as Noel is a pretty trustworthy guy for a spy in the making, and I haven't done anything to him to make him want to fuck with my head.

So, I headed back to my room with your letter, overcome with shock,

Ivy, I'm flattered. You go to enough trouble to make an arsenic based perfume with such an eloquent letter...and then you don't kill me?

I'll just say this: it's not the first time a girl has tried to cause me physical trauma. The normal girls try to send their male friends to beat me up; the insane girls will be much more direct and attempt to run me over with a car or drug me up and drop me off in Zimbabwe. But this is the first time that one showed enough restraint and care for my well-being.

And for that, I think I'll go sneak in a bottle of champagne for the occasion.

**-Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

Fuck off.

**_Sincerely,_**

_Ivy._

* * *

**Ivy,**

You're feisty, Ivy. I like feisty. It can be a very alluring quality.

But I don't like the expected. Once you try to poison me, there's no going back to just "_fuck off_." This letter didn't have as much zip as the others did, and you've proven that you're really imaginative and I'm counting on you for that. The guys here are as creative as a wet paper bag.

**-Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

Dost thou not speaketh English? Alas, poor soul, please fucketh off and descendeth off a cliff.

**Huzzah,**

_Ivy._

**P.S:** Why do so many girls try to kill/harm you? And could you list some of their methods? Thanks.

* * *

**Ivy,**

Okay, I'll admit it. Your letter made me laugh. Congratulations. Except writing in old English makes "fuck off and jump off a cliff" sound a lot nicer than it actually is. Thanks for bringing the zip back, babe.

As for "_why do so many girls try to kill/harm you_?", well, that's a tough question. You're not going to believe this, Ivy, but some people find me a bit off-putting. And by off-putting, I'll assume intimidating. Let's be realistic: smart (understatement, but you knew that), young man of the world who's done more in seventeen years than some people will do in a lifetime. Most people don't like it when others are just so clearly better than them. It's a bit conceited, but it's true, don't you think?

We live our lives in the shadows of others. That's why people are always talking about "the next Beatles" or "the next Ronaldinho." Nobody wants to be an original, we just want to live up to the idols we've created for ourselves. But in the end, there's only cheap imitations. When people see someone who's something more than the role they've created for them in their heads, it's scary, you know?

And the girls? I'll be honest with you, your gender is kind of a mindfuck. And not in the good, interesting, _I'm-curious-to-figure-you-out_ sort of way. But in the ridiculous, overdramatic _for-pete's-sake-just-because-we-hooked-up-once-doesn't-make-us-in-a-relationship_ way.

Here, let me lay it out for you: I'll meet a girl somehow, someway. We get along. We get to know each other (take that as you please). We part ways. It should be that simple, right? A little no-strings attached people spending a short amount of time together and then leaving it at that: a perfect, dynamic moment where nothing is ruined by the exchanging of contact information, labels, or other nuisances. A nice little memory of an even nicer night.

But the girl will never see it that way. No, never. That perfect, dynamic moment? Yeah, they'll remember it as the first time she and her super-awesome-boyfriend-for-life met and hooked up. Her true colors bleed through. "_What do you mean_," she'll say, "_I never said I didn't want a relationship! Of course I wanted a relationship! We had something special, you bastard!_" Then suddenly I'm the world's biggest asshole for not wanting to commit to her.

And that's usually when they try to cause me some kind of pain.

Oh ho ho, Ivy, you're probably thinking, "How dare they say that about you?" I know, I'm shocked too. But look here! That's only the rare cases that they find out my name. Say what you want about us spies, but holy shit, normal girls can be bloodhounds if they want to. This one girl, Sofia, only knew my first name and that I liked to eat mustard on my fries. She found me only a few days after our little tryst and sicked her possible mafioso uncles on me. Luckily, I've got a few connections of my own and was saved from a life of sleeping with the fishes.

In summation, flirting is not a fucking contract.

**- Adrian**

**P.S:** I'm sure you can find your own, unique ways to kill me.

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

I'm going to be blunt with you here: you're the world's biggest asshole.

Not even for the whole "_I'm way too good for relationship_" spiel, but because of the unabashed way you managed to stereotype an entire gender. Not everyone who has two X chromosomes is ridiculous, overdramatic, or relationship-obsessed. Girls are not mental, but some_ people_ are. Don't put the rest of us ladies in the same categories as your pathetic flings.

Have you ever stopped and think that maybe you need to stop pursuing girls who don't have the same "let's cherish this perfect, dynamic moment" mindset as you do?

By the way, everyone knows that "let's cherish this perfect, dynamic moment" is douche-bag for "I'd like to mess around and never speak to you again." How does that line even work, anyway? The least you could do is be upfront if you don't want a hook-up to go somewhere. Honesty is the best policy, especially in matters like this. If somebody mentioned having a "_perfect, dynamic momen_t" with me, I'd assume they were severely unhinged and I would notify the proper authorities. Or mace them with the kind of tear gas that really kicked off the Cold War. Whatever's easier.

Not every girl is a drippy, little, hopeless romantic. And if one is, they ought to stay away from you.

**Tired of bullshit,**

_Ivy._

* * *

**Ivy,**

Wow, talk about brutal honesty. You think I'm the world's biggest asshole? I think you need to start monitoring what you say, dearest pen pal. For all you know, I could be a cry away from offing myself. Words can hurt.

Alright, maybe messing around with girls and never speaking to them again isn't the most ethical thing to do. But look at it this way, I could be involved in human trafficking or environmental terrorism or, as I mentioned before, the mafia. Let's be thankful that my malfeasance revolves around lust and not killing tons of people just for the hell of it.

Also, I considered writing a very heartfelt argument detailing why I don't think I'm too good for a relationship, just to counter you. But then I thought, "what the hell? My greatness needs to be shared with the female population instead of being wasted on just one." Which is extremely true, if you ask me. In fact, my unwavering ability to bring joy and excitement to half of the world almost cancels out all the shit I start in the process. I'm a hero, really.

Everyone wants that perfect, dynamic moment. I just supply them in bulk.

But I must confess, when I read your letter, you sounded like you're speaking from experience with the opposite sex? Enlighten me.

**- Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

Experience?

Please.

**Cryptically,**

_Ivy._

* * *

**Ivy,**

Don't leave me hanging on a thread, didn't I already tell you the possible consequences of hurting my feelings? Shit, it's like you don't even read my letters. And I put a lot of heart into them, too. For instance, I got your letter and put off doing a CoveOps essay just so I could reply quickly to your horrid accusations on my character. If this penpalship is going to work, you need to start putting in your fair share.

Plus, what can I say? I'm curious. I had no idea you Gallagher girls could mingle with any male, hence the reason your headmistress proposed this whole letter exchange. Our teachers told us that the ultimate goal of it was to "strengthen our ties with our sister scho_ol_", but we all knew it was code for "these girls have no idea what to do when speaking to guys who know their cover so you're going to help them, damn it."

You seem like you have a few stories to tell. I told you mine, and I'm sure yours will be, for lack of another word, interesting.

**- Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

Let me say this: I have no problem talking to guys who know my cover, I have no problem messing with the heads of those who don't.

**Here's to future breakdowns,**

_Ivy._

* * *

**Ivy,**

So we're back to the one sentence letters, are we? Funny, that your longest letter happens to be your harshest one. Never forget what I told you, though. Fair share. Remember those two words. Learn them. Love them. Live by them.

But, as always, two can play this game.

How's about a little challenge, to see if you're just as experienced as you infer to be?

Let me know right away, okay?

**-Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

Here's me, letting you know.

**Intrigued,**

_Ivy._

* * *

**Ivy,**

You think you're pretty sly, don't you?

So, prove it.

One of our teachers let it slip that Blackthorne and Gallagher are teaming up for an out of class assignment, probably CoveOps style. Of course, for this challenge, you're not going to be focusing on getting a good grade or not slipping as you scale down a skyscraper or whatever the hell they want us to do. The key point of this is that there will be mixing of genders (get your mind out of the gutter, you rascal).

**OFFICIAL PENPALSHIP CHALLENGE:**

_Operative Adrian v. Operative Ivy_

1.) Both operatives will meet at a rendez-vous point that will be specified when a location to the field trip is acquired.

2.) Operatives will not greet each other or partake in meaningless small talk like their peers will undoubtedly do.

3.) Instead, Operative I will be wearing the woven bracelet enclosed in this letter. Operative A will then know it it is her because he had procured that specific bracelet while in Thailand.

4.) Approximately one minute later, Operative A will engage in a brush pass with Operative I. He will hand her a tiny slip of paper containing the name of one of the Blackthorne students.

5.) Approximately two minutes later, Operative I will do the same with Operative A, handing him a slip of paper with the name of a Gallagher student.

6.) The two operatives will then begin the challenge: first person to find out the following about their aforementioned targets wins:

_- A minor secret about the school that the target goes to, be it an abandoned passageway or some historical fact that only someone who went to Blackthorne/Gallagher would know. Remember, act as normally as possible. Flirt. Be charming. Think honeypot._

7.) Operatives will write down that information on a different sheet of paper, discreetly hand it to the other operative as soon as possible.

8.) Operative A or I must confirm validity of secret in their next letter. The winner gets further bragging rights in all other letters and will henceforth be referred to as "_Master of Manipulating the Opposite Sex_."

Sounds good, no?

**- Adrian**

* * *

**Dear Adrian,**

No, it doesn't sound good.

It sounds like you're going to need to call me Master of Manipulating the Opposite Sex very, _very_ soon.

**Victorious already,**

_Ivy._

* * *

**an: oh, ivy and adrian. such rascals, such manipulators! like the challenge rules? it was fun to write.**

**i got to get my jerky womanizer on by writing adrian, em got to be the cryptic goodness that is ivy.**

**once more, remember that this is basically the start of them getting to know each other. so, letters will be more in-depth later. sophie and leo are next.  
**

**thanks for all the great reviews/alerts/favorites! it makes our day! **

**tell us what you think about this chapter, too!**

**-asha (: with a dash of em.**

**p.s: speaking of players, em (newclassic) is writing a lovely story about zach the womanizer and his adventures in new york city when he tracks down a mysterious girl. it's called "the week of living wildly" and it's kinda the best way to cheer yourself up :) check that out too!  
**


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